


A Housewife for Housekeeping

by gackt_gratia



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Domestic, Gen, father-son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gackt_gratia/pseuds/gackt_gratia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck had promised his mom to take care of his father. Sometimes, he wonders if he has done it right. But sure as hell he is not a housewife even though he is the one who does these domestic shits. After all, Herc is shitty at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Housewife for Housekeeping

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on this [prompt](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/350.html?thread=992606#t992606) at .
> 
> I feel like I failed in filling this prompt. First there is no sex scene as requested and second, I may have butchered up Chuck's and Herc's character. I did and am still writing two drafts. Both are basically the same but after I reread them, they are quite different. One day after I finished both versions I'll post them. But right now I'm going to post the finished version which is the second draft.

_Chuck+Herc and Max_  
  
When Chuck was five, home was associated with his mom’s sunny laughter, his mom’s littering. kisses and his mom’s scent, mild jasmine mixed with hint of delicious aroma of the meal she prepared for his lunch.  
  
He only vaguely remembered a pair of strong hands who lifted him up to the air, the calloused fingers that ruffled his hair affectionately and the rough stubble on the unshaved chin when he held him close and whispered in a deep voice.  
  
+++  
  
When Chuck was nine, his mom praised him. She said he was a big boy now and how he was a good boy for her. She asked her to be strong and to take care of his father. She kissed him and said that he would never be alone because she loved him and so did his father.  
  
Chuck later blamed the shock of losing the center of his world that abrupt but he only remembered that day in fragments. He remembered his own scream, his sobbing pleas, his mother’s smile. He remembered lots of blood, screams. Then he remembered the same strong hands that used to lift him. He remembered to feel safe and relieved within those hands. He remembered the tears and the numbness that followed later.  
  
+++  
  
When Chuck was ten, he had nowhere to be called home but the spartan and cold quarters that he shared with his father in a shatterdome. There was no front porch but a helipad. There was a vast ocean with erratic waves instead of a spacious green lawn. There was no warmth of homey kitchen but a messy and bustling mess hall/dining hall. He had no room but a standard officer housing room with bunk beds that he shared with his father. He had no toys or friends but various parts of the massive metal beast and way older ground crews who some coddled him, some humored him and some just ignored him. He had no mother but a frequently absent father.  
  
Chuck felt like he wanted to throw tantrum like the little brat he was. But sometimes and most of the times he just wished his father would look at him, hug him and comfort him instead of being silently awkward. The only contact he got from his father was the lots of silent stares followed by hesitant questions and later some shoulder pats.  
  
Chuck wished he could hate his father for thrusting the responsibility of raising his son to various ground crews in shatterdome. However, he still remembered his mom and he had promised him mom. He was a big boy and he did not need any cuddles, did he? He could take care himself and made his mom proud of him being a big boy.  
  
+++  
  
Chuck was eleven when he frowned at his father’s mess. He knew that Hercules Hansen was the most sought out ranger out of all other PPDC rangers but that did not excuse him from being lazy to even do his dirty laundry. After all, if there was no more clean shirt, what would the oh so respected Herc Hansen wear? Stinky, wrinkled shirt?  
  
And because Chuck had finished his homework and was bored after reading all those Jaegers manuals, he reckoned he could do his father’s some favor. Thus, when a small eleven years old boy hefted a pile of dirty laundry down the hall toward the common washroom, no one said anything.  
  
+++  
  
By the time Chuck was twelve, he had already accustomed to be the one who did the laundry in his spare time. It was not like he had that much activities he could do around shatterdome that is child-safe. So he did laundry and if he was bored enough he even did the ironing. At least Chuck knew he was keeping his promise to his mom by doing this, not that he really think that this was what his mom had in thought of taking care though.  
  
He was the one who separated the laundry into two separate piles of dark colored and light colored one; the one who measured how much the detergent and the one who knew which detergent to use the best on the kind of shirt that made of which fabric. He was also the one who knew that to prevent stink odor, these washed clothes should be completely dry before they were ironed.  
  
Chuck was also the one who frowned in displeasure upon the wrinkled sheets and changed their bed sheets every two weeks, to remember airing the spare blanket before he washed the blankets every month. He was also the one who knew how to fold the ironed socks and underwears. He had set aside one drawer which was separated neatly into two parts for both his and his father’s socks and underwear.  
  
Thus if his father ever complained to him, Chuck would just tell him to suck it up and would sabotage his laundry routine. Thankfully, his father said nothing and even embarrassedly grateful of what he was doing. So he kept doing it even if he frowned and growled angrily whenever someone addressed this matter to him or even praising him like he was a good son. He was not a good son. He was...practical.   
  
+++  
  
The first time his old man gave him a scare was when Chuck was thirteen. It was after a long battle with Category 2 Kaiju and after Herc Hansen with his co-pilot had succeeded in saving humanity again, the said ranger suddenly collapsed right after the Jaeger was docked.  
  
Chuck had run toward the medical wing where the medics kept his old man for observation. When he asked the doctor, he found out that his old man was fine and the collapse was caused by a low blood glucose. The drift and the neural handshake needed a lot of energy and the ranger had conveniently forgotten to eat his lunch and his breakfast that day.  
  
Chuck sat beside his stupid old man that had worried him. He might be frowning at him but he could not deny the way his heart was still racing hard. He remembered how his heart had seemed stop beating when he saw his usually strong solid father fell down. It was like the terror gripped him hard and made his breathe knocked out of his lungs. It could not be repeated. He should have taken a better care of his father. After all he was all he had know and he swore he would not fail. He disliked failure.  
  
Chuck looked at the sleeping figure whilst frowning over such a careless mistake and decided to rectify the lack of care as soon as he could. But right now he would keep vigil beside his idiot old man.  
  
+++  
  
Two days later, everything went normally now that Herc Hansen was up and fine, saved that Chuck was spending some time with the kitchen staffs.   
  
Two weeks later, his old man only raised an eyebrow when some meal magically appeared on the standard size table that dubbed as the office desk, studying desk and the dining table as well. Later on, the meal kept appeared and sat innocently there. At some mornings there was also a nice steaming cup of coffee with a glass of milk but no sugar, just like how the ranger liked to drink his coffee.  
  
Chuck, of course, did not need the old man’s thank you. The mere sight of the empty plates and evidences that the old man ate food he had prepared was thank you enough for him. The one time he had caught his old man enjoyed his meal with a fond smile, was enough to spur him for never letting his old man eat the mess hall stuff again.  
  
+++  
  
The time when Chuck argued with his old man about his enrolling to the Jaeger academy was done when it was the laundry day. Max, the dog that his old man had given to him, saying that the poor little pup was one of the litter from one of the ground crews that was put up for an adoption, was lounging lazily on top of a fuzzy blanket that was especially for him. The bull pup was snoring heartily beside Chuck who was currently ironing and folding the clean laundry.  
  
“You are too young.”  
  
Chuck snorted. “The academy’s desperate enough for young cadets. The world needs more pilot.”  
  
Herc said nothing as he swallowed the line _does not mean it has to be you_. Instead he nursed his coffee whilst looking at his brash arrogant son doing such a mundane domestic job.   
  
“Max is your responsibility. You’re leaving him behind.” The silent and deliberately unspoken _me_ hung in resignation.  
  
Chuck snorted and inwardly rolled his eyes. Trust his old man to even use Max as his excuse.  
  
“Max is yours too. _We_ are adopting him into the family.” Chuck stressed on the We.  
  
Chuck looked up from the clothes he was folding and saw his old man staring at the mug in his grip, the broad shoulders hunched. Chuck sighed looking at his dad who was looking quite miserable in his contemplation.  
  
“It‘s not forever.”  
  
“The academy program is five years in average.”  
  
Chuck tsked, “I’ll do it faster than you thought.” He said gruffly whilst resuming his task on hand.  
  
Herc put down his mug then he looked at his fourteen years old son folding his pants and his shirt into a neat folded pile.  
  
“Don’t push yourself too hard.”  
  
+++  
  
On the day Chuck was leaving for Alaska to the Jaeger academy, there was no hug, no kiss and not even tears. There was only a manly grunt and nod, a manly shoulder grab and then a sloppy kiss on top of the bull pup.  
  
Later, when Herc entered the suddenly too big space of his usually cramped quarter, he found the memos, tucked and pinned strategically so he could clearly see and read the messages written in a familiar scrawl of handwriting.  
  
“Feed Max.”  
  
“Eat, don’t think to skip it.”  
  
“Don’t mix the whites with the blacks.”  
  
“Change the sheet twice a month.”  
  
“Don’t use scented detergent. Smells girly.”  
  
“Hang them if you don’t fold them.”  
  
“Emergency sandwiches are in the fridge, ask the cook.”  
  
“Favorite coffee ration is in the third drawer, keep the lid closed.”  
  
Herc could not say that he would be missing his son, he felt a regret but seeing and reading the notes, he felt loved. He wanted to smile and laugh. And he already missed his brash angry son.   
  
+++  
  
Year one after Chuck’s leave was uneventful saved that Herc had successfully wrecked half dozen of this t-shirt and he had to buy a new set of wardrobe. During his trip to restock his t-shirts, he had come across a nice moss green apron. He bought it impulsively along with his new t-shirts.  
  
Year two, Chuck was still in the academy. He knew that was not because he did want to come and visit his old man, but Herc knew that the academy did not spare any holiday to all the cadets. It was either one came home because they had failed or they had graduated. So during those days, Herc sometimes lay on his bed, staring nothing at the ceiling whilst giving the not so small bull pup his belly rub. He knew Max misses his other master and he seemed to know that Herc did too. At least, both of them could comfort each other.  
  
Half way to year three, Chuck called once and Herc confessed that he had ruined the bed sheet. Across the ocean, he let himself reacquainted with Chuck’s deeper voice as he cursed on his stupidity at laundry. He did not mind his son’s rant because between the rant, there were threats spoken as disguised promise that he would come home. Herc absolutely did not mind because honestly, he was crap at laundry and he missed more of his shirt smelling like Chuck’s favorite detergent also he missed the simple meal cooked by him.  
  
+++  
  
Chuck was seventeen when he came back after graduated as one of the top in the academy. The first thing he did was getting tackled by his Max and kisses was delivered as well as the happy slobbering. Chuck laughed freely and happily at his beloved pet’s antic. Then the second thing he registered was the sorry state of his old man’s quarter, now was going to be shared with him. He cursed.  
  
By the time Herc was released from his work, it was almost midnight. He jogged to his quarter, hoping to catch his son. He opened the door noisily but once the door was opened, he abruptly stopped.  
  
His quarter was literally spotless. Nothing was out of place and there was no dirty laundry either.  
  
Yet what had arrested his step was that his son, now a little older, taller and broader as typical teenage body but was matured by hardened trained muscles, was sleeping peacefully on his side on top of his bed.  
Herc stepped inside and closed the door silently. Max looked up drowsily and he scratched the spot behind his ear before the bulldog settled to his slumber once again.  
  
Herc approached the sleeping figure and carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, silently cataloguing his son’s change over three years. Then after seeming satisfied, he stood and walked toward the bathroom. He was in the middle of stripping his t-shirt when he heard Chuck’s voice.  
  
“You’re a shitty housewife, old man.” The voice was deeper now. His son sounded sleepily young yet strongly masculine.  
  
Herc deigned no answer but a snort. He stripped bare then he stepped into the bathroom. Just before he closed the door, he heard an angry groan chastising him, “Don’t leave your dirty laundry on the floor!”  
  
It was nice to have Chuck home. It felt right and the space did not seem alien nor big anymore.  
  


**~End...for now~**

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah, I think I messed up the ages and the timeline, so just imagine this is a bit of AU. Anyway, to anons who are reading this, hope you guys enjoy this less spectacular piece =] do comment~


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